Rowan, the Clairvoyant Maniac
by Meimei Chan
Summary: this is my only harry potter fic! and i will finish it! stand by me, it starts off oddly...but i think it'll turn out well! it takes place in harry's 3rd year, starring a 6th year Ravenclaw who has no real place in the world. Not until strange things star


Author's Note: Hey minna. This is the first installment of what *hopefully* will be a somewhat long Harry Potter fanfic. It actually doesn't involve Harry, or many of the people in the actual books aside from teachers. This is set in mostly around events that happen in Ravenclaw House during Harry's third year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Credits for the songs found in here are: The Prayer (performed by Celine Dion and Andre Bocceli…dunno who its by). Credits for the characters: J.K. Rowling, me, Queen Linnea, and Kai.

*******

            The doctors all diagnosed me with narcolepsy at first; said when I passed out I was really falling asleep. Then, as I grew older, they said it was epilepsy, because I wouldn't just "fall over, I would fall over and twitch around a lot." I had also been diagnosed with schizophrenia, because I saw visions, "but they're really hallucinations," the doctors would tell me. My parents, Jocelyn Margaux Lark and Benedict Gregory Davies paid good money for the prat doctors' thoughts. They bought pills to help me sleep at night, pills to help me not faint, pills to stop my hallucinations; pills to keep me sane. I was home schooled, and a shrink came over everyday after lessons to talk to me, and see if "everything was all right, and is anything bothering me?" 

            They didn't tell me until I was eight that my grandmother, Azalea Andanta Lark had been strange too. Mother had only met her once, before she died from a car crash. The people from the city told me my parents died the same way. By some drunk driver, late one night on my tenth birthday. But I know that was a lie. I know who really killed my parents. He killed many other children's parents as well, I learned later. But I never knew about any other "normal" children having parents killed by him. He must have done it though. Must have done it to them, too. 

            When I was eleven, I got a strange letter. A letter that answered so many questions for me, and the headmistress of the boarding school I had been sent to. She always tried to be motherly to me, but I didn't like her. She smelled like pickled cabbages. 

            That coming term, I was sent of to a school that changed my life. Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. By some turn of events, I was sorted into Ravenclaw. People in Ravenclaw are supposed to be smart, but I think I should have been in Slytherin. I'd probably fit in more there, because I'm insane.

            Sometimes I want to kill everyone in the school, to go join the man who killed my grandmother, my mother, and my father. To help him to rise again, to take over the entire world and kill all the Muggles. Other times, I want to cry until I can't stop. And, even rarer, do I want to jump up and down and dance for joy. 

            Professor Dumbledore said I wasn't really insane. He said that I was a clairvoyant, that my fainting spells when I had visions were really visions, not fits, and I didn't hallucinate, I saw things that happened other places. When I heard animals "speak", I really did hear them speak, not imagine it. And best of all, the other strange powers I had exhibited; everyone else here had them, too. 

            My only friend, Linnea, was a year above me and in Ravenclaw, as well. She was a full blood witch, the same as I, but was raised in the usual way of full bloods. In her fourth year, I helped her to uncover the secret to becoming an animagus. She tried to convince me to join her, but I'm crazy enough already. I don't need to be anymore insane. 

            Third year at Hogwarts, the same year I helped Linnea, I went out with a third year Gryffindor. George Weasley was outgoing and funny, my exact opposite. Things might really have worked out between us, except we play opposing positions on our House teams, and his twin had the audacity to pretend to be him so he could get snogged. 

            That's really all that's interesting in my life up until now. It's my sixth year at Hogwarts, and I'm a prefect for Ravenclaw, a beater on our House Quidditch team, and a top student in Potions. Hogwarts is my home now, and Linnea is my older sister. This is to be a documentary of my sixth, and probably best, year at Hogwarts.

            Glancing around wearily, I made certain that no one was watching as I started running towards the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 in Kings Cross station. Okay, so I may be a bit eye catching. Who wouldn't notice a mad shrimp with green streaked white hair and violet eyes (not to mention dressed mostly in black and dark green)? Oh, and can't forget that rather large, battered trunk I'm clunking around, or the two black cats sitting atop as though it were perfectly natural to be heading strait for certain death in the brick wall.

            But we made it through all right, and even if any Muggles saw, it wouldn't matter. People would think they were barmy if they said anything. But not as barmy as the one who'd been seen.

            Students were milling around, pushing crates and trunks, some with an owl atop in a whicker cage. Girls who I knew were from Hufflepuff tittered as I walked by. So what? Who cares what Hannah wotsit and her Gaggle think? I'm mad, and all of Hogwarts knows it.

            Linnea, or Lilly, as we call her (for some reason, I really don't know why), was boarding the train in the prefect's section. Her red hair gleamed prettily in the light of the station. I really like red hair. My own hair is so…weird. But I suppose that fits me, even though, historically, red heads are insane. Especially red heads with green eyes, because they're Irish; just like Linnea. Except Linnea is very, very sane. She's one of those girls who have everything: good looks, charisma, sanity, not to mention parents. Oh, yes, and she's a fox animagus. How could I forget? Not that I envy her in most of those things. I really don't, except, well, I wouldn't mind being off these pills. Linnea's just one of those girls you'd see in a makeup adds in some American magazine.

            Linnea is waving at you, Stencil, the older of my black cats mused. She's probably going to make you sit with the prefects. With a twitch of his elegant tail, he leapt to my right shoulder, brilliant green eyes fixing on mine.

            "Let me alone, Stencil," I grumbled.

            Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'm meant to keep an eye out for you and that feather bag!

            He really has got the most annoying voice. All nasal, rather like the uncle who knows best. Not that I would know, having no living family whatsoever.

            Feather bag meaning me, or Lilly? purred the rather more tolerable voice of Brush, who, after a small stretch, leapt onto my left shoulder, glaring at Stencil.

            Why you, of course, my dear Brush, Stencil replied, lashing his tail in what could be interpreted as a smirk.

            At least I'm not a tosser. I really think you ought to toss HIM out, m'dear. More fish for the rest of us.

            I don't like fish.

            "Lilly!" I called out, waving my hand (trying not to upset either of my passengers). The only time I would bother calling attention to myself is to, well, let her know I'm alive and not in some drug induced stupor (that happened once- not pretty).

            "RALlie, you look marvey!" Linnea exclaimed when I reached her. She was already wearing her robes, with the Ravenclaw crest and prefect badge. She's 3 and a half inches taller than me, placing her in the modelyish division, and my in the shrimp from hell group. This is definitely a good thing, because I'll fit in down there. "You've got to sit with the prefects this year, though, which means robes. Remember last year, when Flitwick nearly had a nervy b. when you decided to sit in the back of the train, and ended up body binding those Slytherins?"

            Ah, yes, the infamous train ride last year. I had declined sitting with the prefects because the wet prat Percy and his girlfriend Penelope made me sick. I mean, seriously, some people really, really shouldn't get off in public. Erlack. 

            "RAL? RAL? Are you listening?"

            It's really hard to pay attention to someone when you have another conversation going on in your head.

            "Shut up!" I screamed, causing some heads to turn in my direction, and eyebrows from inside the train to raise skeptively. 

            "Uh…RALlie?" Linnea asked.

            "Huh?" Oh. Duh. She thought I was telling her to shut up. "Sorry, Lilly. No one cares how long your whiskers are."

            I was just pointing out that they are definitely much curvier and glossier than fish-face over there, Stencil huffed, then jumped off my shoulder and trotted into the train.

            "RALlie?"

            "Hmm? Sorry, Stencil really is a shirty goosegog; it's a good thing he left. I've got enough scratches from getting in the middle of fights all based around fish and whiskers this summer."

            You have a tin of sardines in your pocket, don't you? May I have them? Brush asked, a catty smile spreading over his face. I'll share with you and Linnea if you'd like.

            I really, really don't like fish. Especially sardines. They remind me of hospitals. Hospitals smell very strange, rather like antiseptic mixed with jellies.

            Reaching into the deep pockets (they do go past my knees), I pulled out a small can of sardines and opened it for Brush, setting it on the floor.

            "Brush says you can have some too, if you want. I hate fish."

            "I think I'll pass. Brush looks rather hungry…let's get on the train, RALlie, before it leaves without us."

            "'Kay. Come on, Brush. You can finish your brunch inside."

            We boarded the Express, Linnea smiling, and myself appearing to be lost in thought as usual. It helps, if you want to know what people really think about you. Not that I do, but it is funny to see how close-minded people can be.

            "Look at her. Is she really even a prefect?" "Not even wearing her robes!" "Those are her cats, aren't they? I thought rules said only one pet per student!"

            Grinning at all the wet prat prefects (I really shouldn't even be one. Just because I'm mad, and I get good marks for some reason), I raised a hand in a two fingered wave, showing off the henna tattoos on my palm. 

            "Greetings, fellow prefects. I bring salutations from my master, Memnoch, the Devil, also known as Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, Azazel, Sammael, Marduk, and Mephistopheles."

            There was a collective gasp, and Linnea giggled. Then the train started, and I had to sit down, laughing my head off, so I wouldn't fall on Brush who was contentedly lapping up the sardine juice from his empty can.

            Then I fell over.

_            A huge black dog sat alone on a hill and barked twice. Twice under a full moon. Silence, then a news clipping. "Sirius Black is still at large. Muggles and wizards have been warned." __The dog morphed into a rather large wolf, but not a proper wolf. This was a were-wolf. It howled, and was answered by a scream. A sallow face, framed by long, stringy hair. Another scream, then darkness. And a multitude cried out. Screamed for an eternity, and the blackness turned red, then brilliant white, and black again._

            "RALlie! Wake up!" Linnea was yelling, shaking me. Two rough tongues licked my face, licked away the blood from my bottom lip. I'd bitten through it to keep from screaming.

            Coughing, I took my seat again. Then I realized something. The train was stopped. "Oh, are we there already?" I asked stupidly.

            "Shh," whispered a Hufflepuff prefect. "Something's happening."

            The compartment door slid open, and a shrouded being looked at us. Several of the prefects screamed, others went dead white. I giggled.

            "What is that?" I asked, laughing. 

            "It's a Dementor…" the Hufflepuff prefect whispered, shivering. "They guard Azkaban…make the prisoners go insane."

            "Oh. Well I already am," I said, giggling again. The Dementor closed the door and moved on. I could hear screams from down the Express. Giggling, I popped a white pill into my mouth. Doctors orders; they think it will make me sane.

            The train started up again, and we all sat in silence. It wasn't long before we reached Hogwarts, and clambered out of the train into the carriages. 

Day One~ Breakfast

            Today school starts for real. Flippity doo, in my opinion, but you should really see the firsties. When schedules were handed out (and I say handed for lack of a better term), most of them just gawped.

            'P-potions? And Transfiguration? B-but…those are such difficult subjects!'

            If you ask me (which no body does, so it doesn't really matter), firsties are wet gobs who should all wear muzzles, to keep from spoiling their life (and other peoples) with their stupid comments. If you don't have a brain, you shouldn't be in Ravenclaw. 

            Maybe I really should be in Slytherin.

            Anyway, classes start today, and quite frankly I'm pleased with my schedule. Not like I could have done anything about it if I wasn't, but it is a plus to enjoy what you'll be doing for a good portion of a year. 

            I've got potions first. Tee hee. I hope Prof. Snape gives us a pop quiz. That'd be fab.

Lunch

            Grr. No pop quiz. But he did give two Hufflepuffs detention. Now _that was funny. The poor blubbering Huffies couldn't believe he'd be that mean on the first day. People really ought to do their homework over the summer. It's bad for your health if you don't._

            Hmm, perhaps I shouldn't laugh so hard when I drink juice anymore. I just spewed it on a poor little firstie next to me. Oops.

            Oh, Linnea finally got out of her class! Lucky for me, the "poor little firstie" went and sat next to someone who isn't insane, and doesn't have cats climbing on her shoulders.

            Brush and Stencil don't know how to read.

            Luckily.

            "Hey, RALlie," Linnea said, sitting down next to me, a huge grin on her face. "You ready for Song Magic?"

            Shrugging, I grinned. "If its singing, I'm ready. I was driving everyone crazy at the House over the summer."

            Shaking her head and laughing, Linnea started stuffing food into her mouth. "I kin fo fee 'a'," she said, her mouth full of bread. Linnea may be pretty and talented, but she doesn't have an ounce of etiquette. That'd be boring.

            Snorting grape juice out of my nose (much to the dismay of Stencil, who was sitting in the middle of my empty plate), I laughed until my sides were sore. Linnea grinned with a rather chipmunk face, making me laugh harder.

            Finally, we calmed down enough for Linnea to swallow her mouth full of masticated bread and cheese, and for me to calmly (for lack of another word) swallow the rest of my grape juice.

            Then the bells tolled, and we stood, grabbed our bags, and started out for a tower I'd never been to.

            "So, Lilly, what's the Song teacher like?"

            Without seeing her face, I knew she was grinning. Some people say you can hear it in a person's voice, but I don't get that. I just knew.

            "You'll see. She's really cool, not like any other teacher here. Although I suppose the new DADA teacher might be a bit like her, considering he's her cousin."

            Raising an eyebrow as we entered a classroom unlike most of the others, I smiled as I saw a large black cat (almost like a panther, really), seated on top of what looked some what like a Muggle boom box, in the pose of an ancient Egyptian cat statue. Walking over to her, I reached out a hand to scratch under her chin.

            "Hi, cat. Who're you?"

            Then, to my astonishment, the cat opened her mouth in a very human way, and said in a clear, albeit slightly accented voice,

            "I'm your professor. Take a seat on one of the cushions."

            Turning to face Linnea, I grinned. "So this is what you meant, hmm? A class where I'm not the crazy one?" I asked, walking to sit next to her. Stencil and Brush stayed behind, staring with awed expressions on their very feline faces.

            She grinned back. "Professor Lupin, my friend RALlie here can talk to animals. That's what she means by crazy," she offered as an explanation to the cat shaped professor, who was wearing a rather more human expression than the ones Stencil and Brush wore.

            "Oh, I see. Well, RALlie, I'm sure you and I will find plenty to talk on. You are a prefect, no?"

            As other students filed in, they paid little to no attention to the cat, save the returning seventh years, who waved hello. Professor Lupin offered a regal cat/human nod to these students, then fixed amber eyes on me once again.

            "Yes, Professor Lupin," I mumbled, rolling my eyes. I don't exactly like being a prefect. It's not really much fun.

            Professor Lupin grinned. A real grin, mind you. Not one of those fake, cat grins. This was a genuine human grin on a feline face.

            "Good afternoon, class," she said, addressing the rest of the students, finally. "I am your teacher, Professor Lupin. But call me Bastet, please. Professor Lupin is my cousin, and the title fits him much better." Scanning the room, she noted the gawping faces of other sixth years, and seventh years in this class for the first time. 

            "The short version of why I'm a cat right now is because my human body died, and I became a reverse were cat. If you'd like to hear the long version, I'm sure it's available in the library, or you can stick around after class. Now, all of you stand up and we'll start warming up. You can't sing people off cliffs if you can't reach all the notes."

Dinner

            Song magic is amazing! It has got to be (by far) my favorite class at Hogwarts. Prof. Bastet complemented me at least once on my vocal range, and the skills I already have in the magic.

            She said I was probably a Bard in a past life.

            The job isn't open any more, though (I just had to look it up in the Library before this). Some spiteful, fake magician told a king who'd fired him in favor of a Bard that the Bards used magic.

            Any Bards that didn't conceal themselves were killed.

            Grr.

            That's why only sixth and seventh years are allowed to take this class. It's one of the hardest types of magic to control, because no wands are involved. It's very easy for a witch or a wizard to accidentally (or purposefully) use it around Muggles.

            Also, it can't be traced.

            Prof. Bastet also said most of the class will end up leaving. The skills it takes for song magic, or "Bardic talents," can't be taught. Only the control over them can.

            This one sixth year Gryffindor in the song magic class is really quite stupid. Prof. Bastet assigned us to work together on a duet (all partners were boy-girl. Otherwise I would have been with Linnea, of course.), saying something about improving inter-house relationships, or some other such nonsense.

            "Are you coming to the Library with me, RAL?" Linnea asked, as Stencil resumed his perch "his" shoulder. Brush was curled up next to Prof. Bastet, seeming more like a love-sick puppy than a distinguished cat. That's what Stencil said anyway. What a prat. 

            "Sure, Lilly. C'mon, Brush!" I called, standing, picking up my music and stuffing it into my bag. 

            Can't I stay with Miss Lupin?

            "No. Now."

            With a  heavy sigh, and quite a few odd looks from the few students left in the room, Brush came and jumped on my other shoulder.

            Then I realized I hadn't heard the bell ring, or even notice the students leave.

            I tend to zone out when I'm singing. Focus just on the music.

            "Bye, Prof. Bastet," I said, waving, and Mr. Skanky-pants, AKA the wet Gryffie prat, caught my eye and _winked. _

            I really thought he meant Linnea. People are always winking at Linnea. She's that rather eye-catching sort…the comparison between us is rather like a peacock to a raven.

            As we turned to go, I heard Mr. Skanky-pants soft voice behind us.

            "Um…would you…like to walk around the lake with me tonight...?"

            I kept walking, expecting Linnea to answer with a smart remark, something I'd never be able to say.

            Instead, she grabbed the back of my robes and spun me around to face Mr. Skanky-pants.

            "Answer the poor boy, RAL," she said, covering the laughter in her voice with calmness I'll never have. Lucky girl.

            "Uh…I…uh…have…Quidditch practice…Beaters only. Very important." Nodding, and well aware that my cheeks were probably redder than Linnea's hair, I tried to duck away.

            "I thought that was tomorrow night, RAL," my not-so-friendly-friend said, a slight smirking tones in her voice.

            "It…er…is it…? Then I guess I'll meet you…after dinner?" I told Mr. Skanky-pants, ending the question in a squeak.

            "Ok, sure," he said. Probably blushing about as much as I am, from his tone.

            Grabbing Linnea's wrist, I turned and ran off in the direction of the Library.

            When we finally got there, Linnea collapsed laughing in a chair. Madam Pince gave her the evil eye, and she tried to quiet her crazy giggling. After I glared, though, she shut up.

            "I'm sorry, RALlie, really I am…but you just looked so funny when he asked you. What's his name?"

            "Mr. Skanky-pants," I mumbled.

            "Huh?"

            "So far as I know, it's Mr. Skanky-pants. I really didn't think I'd need to know what it was."

            I'm going on a date.

            I'm going on a date.

            Oh god help me, I'm going on a date.

            Heh heh…God help my date.

            Linnea is watching Stencil and Brush for me. Joy of joys, there won't be any interruptions. I'm just dripping with sarcasm today, aren't I?

            Dates seem to be bad for my health. Maybe I should make that excuse next time.

            Ooooh no. Here comes Mr. Skanky-pants.

Before Bed

            I hope Mr. Skanky-pants gets kicked out of Song. I really do. Grr…I'm never going on another date as long as I live.

Day 2~ Breakfast

            I couldn't sleep last night. At about 2:30 am I gave up and decided I might as well do something useful.

            Went and took a bath in the prefect's loo.

            Didn't know they were unisex baths.

            Also didn't know Head Boy is on night patrol.

            Needless to say, there was a very awkward pause.

            I hope Percy didn't have _too bad of a headache when he woke up._

            Well, so far nothing heavy has dropped on my head. Although Mr. Skanky-pants is watching me with that stupid grin on his face.

            "G'morning, RALlie," Linnea said, mid-yawn. I think she might have been grinning, but I could be wrong. It's hard to discern that sort of thing when someone's mouth is big enough to stuff two fists into.

            "Hi, Lilly. Dream big?"

            "Oh, you betcha," she answered with a smirk. 

            Stencil and Brush have emerged.

            Guess I'm done with breakfast. There's no way I'd get any oatmeal from the two of them. Piggies, they are.

            "Wherefore art thou smirking, fair Linnea?" I asked, grinning, thinking that maybe she would fill me in on an inside joke or something.

            Leaning close to me, she swallowed a lump of oatmeal and said in a stage whisper, "Snog fest."

            Crashing backwards out of my chair, I leapt up, beet red. "Lilly!!!" I yelled, probably drawing more attention to myself than I wanted. "I…I…"

            And that's why I'm sitting here outside of the DADA room, scribbling furiously in this wonderful little book.

My Kill List:

Mr. Skanky-pants (who's name I still don't know)

Percy 

Linnea

            "Excuse me, um…Miss. Could you move? You're blocking the door," asked a light tenor voice from somewhere above me.

            Looking up, I nodded and scooted out of the way. "Are you Professor Lupin?" I asked, sounding somewhat googled, I'm sure.

            He smiled as he unlocked the door to the classroom, the corners of his amazing, clear blue eyes crinkling slightly. "Yes, I am." 

            Ah, the voice. A voice that expresses emotions. Probably a damn good singing voice.

            "And you are?"

            I almost missed his question.

            "Uh…I'm RALlie…I'm in the next class. Do you mind if I come in early?" I asked, standing and picking up my bag.

            "Not at all. If you'd like, I can put some tea on."

            "That'd be nice. I didn't really get much of a breakfast…Stencil and Brush ate it."

            Raising a speculative eyebrow, he held the door open for me. A gentleman, and a clever on at that. Joy! Real men do exist. Linnea will be pleased. If I don't kill her first.

            Grr.

            "RALlie? Are you alright?"

            "Huh?"

            "I asked you if Stencil and Brush were your cats."

            "Oh. Yeah, they are. Really annoying, too. Almost never shut up about how pretty their whiskers are, or how they have to look out for me, or how the other one is a wet prat."

            Nodding slowly, Prof. Lupin picked up a paper and perused it for a moment.

            "RALlie, I'm afraid you aren't on my attendance list. Are you sure you're in this class?" he asked, looking over it once more.

            "Oh…sorry. RALlie's my nick name. Most of my teachers call me by it, too, except McGonagall and Snape. Rowan Allegra Lark is my given name…"

            "Rowan is a lovely name. You should go by it more often."

            He hasn't mentioned anything about me talking to cats. Maybe he's crazy too! Or he's used to it, because his cousin is one.

            "Yes, Prof. Lupin."

            He started to smile to himself. "I see you are one of the special students?" he asked, handing me a cup of tea. 

            He really is a handsome one, this Professor Lupin. I do hope he isn't married. 

            Mr. Skanky-pants could take a lesson or two from him.

            Tee hee.

            "If by special you mean mad, then yeah, I definitely am," I replied with a grin, and took a sip of the tea.

            Ouch. 

            Burned my tongue.

            Sitting down at his desk, Prof. Lupin motioned for me to pull up an extra chair across from him.

            "It says here, Rowan, that you are a clairvoyant."

            "Schizophrenic."

            "Alright then, although I'm sure Dumbledore does know what he's talking about. It also says that you can talk to animals?"

            "Yeah, I can, but the doctors thought that was schizophrenia, too. Why do you ask?"

            Smiling at me, Prof. Lupin set down his papers. "It may prove to be very useful to you, Rowan, especially if you follow in my cousin's steps. I assume you found out what really happened to her?"

            Nodding, I replied, "Yeah, she was a were-cat since she was nine, and her twin brother and dad hated her. They always picked on her, using the Cruciatus curse for practice, until her dad decided to turn her into a cat full time, leaving everyone at Hogwarts to think she was dead. Then you and her boyfriend from school brought her back last year, where she got engaged to her old boyfriend. Then, her twin brother, an "ex" Death Eater, tried to kill her and her fiancé. She got tired of being picked on all the time by him, so she Avada Kadavra'ed him. She was about to die, too, because neither twin could live if the other died. Luckily, it was a full moon so she became a reverse were-cat. That's really double cool with knobs, it is."

            Prof. Lupin nodded, hiding a slight grimace at the mention of Prof. Bastet's twin, or some other thing I said.

            Damn, he's handsome even when he looks like he's going to puke.

            Standing, he motioned for me to stand. "Class will be starting soon. You can choose any seat you like, considering you were here first. May I suggest a seat in the front, however? It's…comforting to see a familiar face from over here."

            Smiling, I nodded and chose the desk dead center of the front row.

            Would you believe my dumb luck?

            Mr. Skanky-pants sat right next to me.

            Stencil and Brush trotted in after him, smirking feline smirks at me, and curled up under my desk muttering about fish and mice.

            "Hi…" Mr. Skanky-pants said with a wink.

            What cheek! We've only had one date (if you can call that a date), and he's acting like we're…we're…an item!

            I vow, here and now, that I, Rowan Allegra Lark, will never, ever, EVER date Mr. Skanky-pants again.

            Ever.

            Even if we were the last two people on earth.

            If we were, I would shove him off a cliff. Mating is not one of my interests.

            The rest of the class filled up quickly, and Prof. Lupin started taking roll. I zoned out for a while, until,

            "Lark, Rowan Allegra?" he asked with a smile in my direction.

            "Here, Professor Lupin," I replied.

            Must. Remain. Calm.

            Must. Zone. During. Roll.

            When I thought he was nearly done, he called one last name,

            "Thakes, Leonardo?"

            "Present, Professor Lupin," was the rumbling reply from Mr. Skanky-pants.

            Mr. Skanky-pants suits him better than Leonardo Thakes.

            And now I don't have the excuse of not knowing his name.

            Rowan Allegra Thakes, purred Stencil cruelly.

            "Shut up!" I hissed, kicking the floor under my desk. Prof. Lupin looked up.

            "Rowan, if Stencil and Brush are bothering you, please ask them to go outside."

            "You heard the man," I told my cats, grinning in spite of myself. "Either shut up, or go."

            They shut up.

Lunch

            After DADA, Leonardo followed me to the Library, asking if he could study with me, or if he could carry my books, or my cats, or anything.

            I told him he could carry himself away on a stretcher if he didn't shove off.

            He left, muttering something about "having the painters in".

            Mr. Skanky-pants must die.

            Linnea found me in the Library, and sat down.

            "Hey, I'm sorry," she said, poking my arm. "'Mr. Skanky-pants' didn't look like that bad of a snogger. And you really can't blame me for watching. I made it happen, and you'd never tell me what went on."

            Looking up from my book on Bards, I smiled.

            "I know you had to watch."

            Meeting the man of my dreams has really put me into good spirits.

            "Why are you so happy? Decide you like 'Mr. Skanky-pants after all?'" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

            I kicked her in the shins.

            Hard.

            And I wear steel toed boots.

            "No. But I did meet the man of my dreams, and yours. Just wait until you have DADA today. Prof. Lupin is dreamy-creamy."

            Linnea giggled. "Really, RAL? Is that where you disappeared to, then?"

            "Yeah. We talked until class started."

            "Mmhmm," Linnea mused, waggling her eyebrows. "If you call that 'talking', its your call."

            "LILLY!!!"

            I feel testy today.

            I don't think I'll write anymore.

Midnight

            Hogsmead visit is coming up soon, just in time for Halloween. Linnea and I will have so much fun!

            I just hope Leonardo can't go.

            And yes, right now I'm in the prefect's loo again.

            Percy knows not to come poking his head back in here.

Day 7~ Breakfast

            I've finally gotten the perfect revenge against Linnea.

            None at all.

            That ought to keep her on her toes, and rather nice to me, too, I'd hope.

            "RALlie," whispered a soft voice behind me. I spun, knocking over my cup of pumpkin juice on to Stencil, who meowed in complaint.

            "Hi," Mr. Skanky-pants said with a small smile. "You've been avoiding me."

            "No, I haven't been avoiding you," I said in a very false sounding voice. "I've just got my anti-stalker knickers on."

            He looked at me kind of funny, with a rather hurt expression. "I'm sorry if I've offended you RALlie..."

            "Well you have. Now be off, before I call in my goldfish brigade in to hose you down with Ovaltine," I snapped good naturedly. 

            "If there's anything I can…"

            "Jump off a cliff? Ride a broomstick into a parked lorry? Turn your hat into an elephant?"

            He turned and walked away dejectedly, although I could distinctly hear him mutter "PMS."

            That really pisses me off. Why do guys have to blame any annoyed or snappishness on a certain time of the month? It's not as though they don't get annoyed (or snappyishnessy) at all.

            "RAL?"

            "What?!?" I practically yelled, turning around ready to sock Mr. Skanky-pants in the face.

            "Is Leo bothering you?" asked the friendly face of George Weasly.

            My ex-man-of-my-dreams.

            Professor Remus J. Lupin is no officially in that position! 

            "Why do you ask?" I shot back, a glare darkening on my face. I slipped back the urge to sock him, just because it was him.

            George smiled his ex-heart-shattering smile.

            Hah, hah, on Georgie. Prof. Lupin has a more heart-shattering smile than you ever did.

            "Because I care about you, RAL. You're one of the coolest people here at Hogwarts."

            Snorting, I turned back to my porridge and spilt pumpkin juice.

            "'Leo' as you call him, isn't bothering me. He's just making me sick. Now go away, before you have an affect on my up-chuck reflex as well," I snapped, sending the evil eye his way.

            "Testy today, are we?" he retorted, turning away and stalking back to the Gryffindor table.

            Little black rain cloud, little black rain cloud, storm all over him…

            Heh heh heh.

            "God ye good en, RALlie," Linnea said, smiling in a way that reminded me of a particularly frightened rabbit. Or a deer stuck in the headlights of a lorry.

            I repeat: heh heh heh.

            "How fares ye, Lilly?" I asked, hiding a grin, which was easy, considering both Mr. Skanky-pants and the Ex-man-of-my-dreams have ruined my morning.

            "I hath slept fairly, milady. And thou?"

            "I hath bathed fairly, milady. Didst thou knowest today is Shakespeare day?"

            "I did knoweth. It hath been on my…calendar for many a day."

            "Firstly we have Song Magic. Wherefore didst…Mistress Bastet assign me and that lily-livered canker wart to work together? It doth not make sense."

            "Nay, it doth not, Lady RALlie. Pray, tell, how is thy song going?"

            "It is going quite well, thank you. And thy own?"

            "Ah, Master Gerald hath a fine, strong, baritone."

            "Doth he? Well, I am glad to hear it, for that shall surely bring out the fine qualities in thine own voice, Lady Lilly. Art thou ready to travel to the classroom?"

            "Yes, I am quite ready."

            I really don't see why you have to carry on such nonsense. None of the other students do anything like this, muttered the ever-righteous Stencil, licking porridge from his nose.

            Leave her be, piggy, scoffed Brush, lashing his tail. She has every right to speak how she wishes, just as you have every right to be a twat.

            "If these beasts do not shut thy mouths, they will surely have Master Skanky-pants' socks stuffed into them," I grumbled, slinging my bag over one shoulder. 

            Check and mate.

            Exchanging a worried feline glance, Stencil and Brush leapt onto my shoulders, digging in as Linnea and I raced towards the Song Magic classroom.

Lunch

            A few hours later, after spending far too much time around a certain perverted creep, I write back to thee, O faithful journaly-type-thing. I guess for lack of other interesting things to say (other than the fact that I hate Mr. Skanky-pants with a burning flame of passion), I will write out the lyrics to the song we're learning. It's really quite pretty.

I pray you'll be our eyes

And watch us where we go

And help us to be wise

In times when we don't know

Let this be our prayer

When we lose our way

Lead us to a place

Guide us with your grace

To a place where we'll be safe

La luce che tu dai

Nel cuore restera

A ricordarci che

L'eterna stella sei

Nella mia preghiera

Quanta fede c'e

Lead us to a place

Guide us with your grace

Give us grace so we'll be safe

So gnamo un mondo 

Senza piu violenza

Un mondo di 

Gui stizia e di speranza

Ognuno dia la mano

 Al suo vici no

Simbolo di pace

Di traternita

We ask that life be kind

And watch us from above

We hope each soul will find

Another soul to love

Let this be our prayer

Just like every child

Need to find a place

Guide us with your grace

Give us faith so we'll be safe

E la fede che

Hai acceso in noi

Sento che ci salvera

            Isn't that amazing? It's some Muggle song…I had no idea they were that talented. If I can't be a bard, then I'd at least want a job that involves song magic. Maybe I can talk Prof. Lupin into adopting me…

Dinner

            I have major munchies. I think I might eat Stencil and Brush if they try to come between me and my dinner. 

            This is what comes from having long, hard, Quidditch practices. I have extra beater practice after this. What fun.

            Sing, sing, sing…music is the key to my existence! E la fede che hai acceso in noi sento che ci salvera!

Midnight

            Ah, a wonderful soak in the prefects' bath again, after a hard day of whacking and being whacked. 

            Lucky Percy learned after the first time not to check the bathes. He won't have to go through any more days with splitting headaches.

            Ah…I could just sleep this way…


End file.
